The Heiress
by AmberEyes01
Summary: In 12th century England Sir Edward of Aquitaine returns from the Holy Land. He is to be rewarded for his faithful service. Lady Isabella is a ward of the King and one of the great prizes of the kingdom.
1. Prologue

The horse-drawn carriage was jostled for what felt like the hundredth time. The roads were not as well maintained here, on the rough coast of England, as they were in the park at the manor. Bella felt excited, though, for the first time in a very long time. The rugged landscape offered unlimited food for thought for her hungry eyes, eyes that until recently had mostly seen the inside of the small stark room at the manor. After the resent death of Bella's aunt she had no living family, and the king had controlled her estates since her parents' death. She had only vague memories of a pair of beautiful sparkling blue eyes, and of a red smiling mouth that she knew belonged to her mother. Bella would get a fleeting sense of comfort and then of loss every time she thought of her, so she did her best to suppress the memories. People said Bella looked exactly like her mother, famed beauty of the Northmen, except for the eyes; she had her father's eyes, the deep brown of the Irish soil from whence he came.

The land outside the carriage window continued to change, as stark broken rocks gave way to tufted hillocks, and gently rolling hills. This was the last leg of their journey. First they had gone by ship from Ireland to England, in itself an adventure, and then they had travelled by carriage for 5 days on the road. It was the king of England himself, who had ordered Bella and her guardians to leave the country of her birth and join his court. Bella had never cared much for her aunt, who believed children should be neither seen nor heard, and the young girl looked forward to experiencing new things in London. Little did she know that she was merely replacing one form of captivity with another.

The carriage had reached a crossroads, and the driver halted the horses, causing the chaperone, Mrs Mallory, to awake abruptly.

"What in the good Lords name are you doing child? Get away from that window at once!" she screeched, reaching over to yank the window covering from Bella's grip. She let go reluctantly, and mourned the pretty view that was no longer available. Needless to say, Mrs Mallory was an evil hag, but because she was appointed by the king to accompany the royal ward on the trip, Bella had to obey her. In fact, she had to obey everyone. The king controlled her lands and estates until she would eventually marry, and he reaped the riches right into his own pocket. And when she married she would have to obey her husband. Bella knew she was unlikely to ever be wed, however. A few years back she had overheard her aunt speaking to her only friend. The girl had not understood it at the time, but she thought she might have an inkling as to what her aunt had meant now that she had reached the respectable age of fourteen.

"That girl is the greatest money-machine the Crown possesses right now. The king is greedy and lives extravagantly. He cannot afford to ever let that little goldmine go. It is so unfair! I am her guardian! I take care of that little brat and only I should benefit from her fortune. I may not be related to that girl by blood, but I have raised her and shouldered the burdens of that girl's upbringing. I have done much more than I ought to, to honour my late husbands niece, may he rest in peace. It is only fair that I benefit in some small way from the hassle…" Her aunts' tirade was agreed upon by her friend, a spineless woman who was quick to agree to anything her higher ranked friend said. Bella has been coincidently passing the room where the two gossips sat, and since she could not in good conscience continue to listen at the door, she moved on. But the conversation stayed with her, and contributed to a feeling of despair that sometimes overtook her, whenever she envisioned the very real possibility of never getting away from her controlling aunt.

Another bump in the road brought Bella back to the present. Her strict aunt was no more, and though the Crown had appointed Mrs Mallory as a guardian and chaperone, Bella had high hopes that she would experience more freedom at court, than she had at her beloved, but isolated childhood home.

Mrs Mallory had fallen asleep again and was snoring softly in the corner. Bella took the opportunity to once again enjoy the view. Everything was so fresh and somehow gentler than she was used to. The Emerald Isle was undoubtedly a beautiful place, but Bella thoroughly enjoyed new things, since her life for the last few months had been so lacking in them. Another break in the monotony of the creaking carriage and the snores from her companion was the fact that it appeared another traveller had joined them on the road. The dark figure was on an immense horse, a warhorse of the kind Bella vaguely remembered her father owning and breeding. As he drew nearer Bella could see that beneath his black cloak, he wore the white coat embroidered with the red cross that symbolised the Knights Templar, or at least a pilgrim to the Holy Land. This was obviously a skilled or fearless man; to be travelling alone on such an expensive steed showed either a total confidence in ones own ability to defend oneself or a reckless abandon for personal safety.

As he drew even nearer it seemed to Bella that it was a bit of both. The knight seemed totally at easy on the big horse, and sat tall and strong on it. But at the same time he looked… defeated. Defeated, and oh so tired. Not so much in body as in mind, he gave the impression of a man who had just rallied his last troops and was riding into certain doom.

Bella found him fascinating.

When he passed the carriage she moved the curtain aside, anxious to see him fully. He was breathtaking. In Bella's limited experience she found him very handsome indeed, the strong jaw, the dark brows and the brilliant eyes burning into her memory. For a few short seconds their gazes met, and Bella's heart stopped beating. His eyes where so green, so beautiful, but with the aforementioned soul crunching tiredness, that she couldn't breathe for a little while. She could only stare at the face of one of the most revered heroes of her time, a pilgrim bound for the Holy Land, and suddenly with her whole heart wish that he might one day return from the scorching desert, and not perish in the sand as so many had.

Sir Edward of Aquitaine noticed the huge dark eyes first, the beautiful face second. The young girl looked like she would become a true beauty one day, and Edward who had looked forward to escaping England almost as much as he wanted to defend the Holy Land, suddenly felt a sense of hope he could not remember feeling since a year ago when his life had fallen apart. He found himself actually wanting to return; return and repair what had been torn apart.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N Wow! I am overwhelmed by the support you have shown this story! Thank you so much for the reviews and the alerts. I have fixed the miss/mrs/Stanley/Mallory confusion that some of you were so kind to point out, and give you the new chapter here. **  
**A note on the historical accuracy; the plot is loosely based on the book 'The Greatest Knight' by Elizabeth Chadwick (great book) and the sequel, but beyond reading a lot of historical books/fics I'm not doing much research**.

The Heiress - Chapter One

4 years later

Bella sat on the narrow windowsill and looked at the throngs of people past the drawbridge. Saturday was market day, and her favorite. There was little to entertain here in the tower, and less still to amuse.

The high hopes of freedom and excitement she had nurtured when her aunt passed away, had quickly melted away when it became obvious that she had merely exchanged one prison with another. She had been installed in an old castle that had lost its strategic importance a long while ago. It was a relatively short distance from London, convenient if she was needed, but far away from anything dangerous or, Heaven forbid, exiting.

As one of the Kings most valuable wards, she was not allowed to do much. Since Bella had no powerful living relatives who might influence the King, she was not even needed at court.

The King would benefit from her estate until the day she wed, a day Bella had started to look forward to, even as it seemed unlikely she would ever be let go. However, as she had just turned 18, hope had begun to blossom again.

Of course, marriage might not be the salvation she hoped for. Two other wards of the King had shared her accommodations for a while until both had been married. The girls had been young, 17 and 18, yet both had been married to old men. Powerful and rich to be sure, but still very much older than them. One of them had confided in Bella that the best one could hope for was to get a husband with one foot already in the grave and hope he knocked on Saint Peters Heavenly Gate before the year was out. Bella found that very un-Christianlike, but the only men who were awarded the prized wards where the powerful ones, and they were almost always old.

With a sigh Bella turned away from the busy scene. It would do no good to speculate on marriage or husbands or freedom or any such thing. She would wed when the King decided and to a man, old or young, of his choosing. The best she could hope for was a kind man, someone who would let her have a say in the ruling of her lands. She might not have a say in who she married, but she could never stand aside and let a cruel husband mistreat her people.

Bella ate the evening meal the servants brought and took a short stroll in the courtyard. The guards were courteous, but standoffish, not the sort to invite conversation. Bella might have been attempted to try anyway, but one stern lecture from the Lord Protector of the castle had quickly put an end to any fancy she had of making friends. The Lord Protector was probably as bored as she was, and as a result he obsessed over every little thing, especially how the wards conducted themselves. He was a pesky sort of man, and one of the main reasons Bella longed to get away.

At least she had her books. She was expected to be reasonably educated and the Lord Protector would occasionally buy books. Many of them were dull and dusty, but a few described the crusades to the Holy Land. The books painted the scenes in vivid detail; the glistening sand, the scorching sun, the noble Knights Templar and Crusaders, the fearsome Saracens and great mystical animals who carried water on their back, inside their bodies, and could go on for weeks without drinking anything else. It would do no good to long for a different future, instead Bella curled up in her windowsill and dreamt of other lands, far beyond the horizon.

Sir Edward of Aquitaine halted his horse still a small ways from London. The bonedeep tiredness he felt was assauged by a rush affection for his home. He could hear the dull roar and smell the stink of many people gathered together, and he could finally see. See his home that he had left four years ago on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land. He had seen and learned much, and he longed for the court. His mentors and friends; the new King whom he had fought, protected, warred with and against, and ultimately hoped he could learn to love and honor.

At a brisk trot the horse continued on the old Roman paving stones, the clap-clap loud in the still quiet countryside. It wasn't long, however, before the first hovels appeared. They were little more than sticks and boards and looked like they would topple at the first stiff breeze. The people where no better, thin and dirty, children running rampant all over the place. The quality and quantity increased until Sir Edward reached the city wall. The great structure separated the makeshift homes from the more permanent ones.

Not that they smelled any better, Edward noted with a wry grin. On the trips by ship to and from the Holy Land personal hygiene had not been a priority, and had been hard to come by. But after three years of living among Knights Templar and the normal population of the Holy Land, where the westerners after generations had emulated some of the habits of the native population, he had become used to higher standards. The educated Muslims would wash before each meal, which was more than could be said of Londoners. Of course the Muslim nomads never washed, so maybe it equalled out in the end.

Sir Edward finally reached the royal castle. The guards looked respectfully but warily at him. The white coat with the red cross was widely respected, but a dusty knight who had clearly had a rough journey was a wild card who might take offense of you looked at him the wrong way, and in the process make you a good head shorter.

Sir Edward fixed one of the guards with a firm stare.

"Find a servant and ask the Queen Mother for an audience. Tell her Sir Edward of Aquitaine begs for a moment of her time."

He couldn't help but add: "Run along now, boy."

The guard looked like he might protest, but ones slight shake of his head from his fellow watchman stopped him.

"Yes Sire. Right away my Lord."

The young guard looked uncertain whether or not to bow, but seemingly decided to err on the side of caution and sketched a quick bop, before he turned and disappeared into the guardhouse.

While he waited, Sir Edward contemplated the woman he was about to see. He hoped he still had a strong supporter in the Queen Mother, the famous beauty, Eleanor of Aquitaine. Though he had supported her estranged husband, he had also saved the lives of her sons several times over, and they had always enjoyed a respectful friendship.  
Her late husband, King Henry II had been the first Lord to command Sir Edwards oath of fealty, and when his sons rose in revolt against him, with their mother staunchly on their side, he had not been able to desert the increasingly frail King. Young Henry, the son of the King, had died as a result of the second revolt, and his brother Richard was now King. Despite having always liked the princes and having the highest regard for the Queen, Sir Edwards honor would not allow him to turn back on his word. Luckily he had always been a favorite of the Queen, and he had managed to survive with his honor intact. The journey to the Holy Land had been both an act of penance and a mission of great political importance.

It wasn't long before the guard returned. With him he brought the chamberlain of the royal household, an elderly self-possessed man wearing the uniform of a high ranking servant, and with the keys to the castle in his belt.

"My Lord, please enter. Your horse will be taken care of, and the Queen asks to see you right away. Please follow me Sire."

Sir Edward did as he asked and dismounted Mandarb. He gave the reins to a stable boy that came running to take them, and followed the chamberlain into castle.

He was led through sumptuous rooms and hallways that reminded him of the churches and mosques of the Holy Land, except that here there was a lot of heavy furniture which suddenly looked ungainly and illfitting to his eyes that had become used to soft pillows on the floor and a lighter design.

The chamberlain stopped in front of two large doors incribed with the royal crest, and the personal creat of Queen Eleanor. He knocked, opened the door, and beckoned for Sir Edward to enter. Edward took a deep breath, suddenly wishing he had had time to wash the sign of travel away before he stood before one of the great beauties of his time. She might be in her fifties and have carried ten children, but Eleanor of Aquitaine was still a beautiful lady, which was proven when Edward entered and bowed deeply to the Queen.

"Edward! Finally you have returned to us! You have been sorely missed, my friend. Come, sit down, you have had a tiresome journey I bet. Come rest. You are home."

Edward didn't realize how worried he had been for his reception at home before the kind words of the Queen took away a burden from his shoulders. He smiled in relief, while he received gratulations and well wishes from her courtiers and ladies-in-waiting. She was absolutely correct. He was home.

**A/N As you can probably tell this is unbetaed. All mistakes are mine. Take care.**


End file.
